Take the Heat

The angles of his masculine jaw locked with tension, his whiskered cheeks flexing with the grind of his teeth. “Relax. I won’t cut you.” He sliced through both straps and removed the material.

Heat liquefied her body, from the adrenaline surging through her blood, from the way he was staring at her bared breasts. He shifted downward, cut off her shorts, and returned the knife to his back pocket.

She released a breath, her thighs flexing, stretched open and held down.

His gaze stroked every inch of her nudity and came to a stop on her pussy. “Jesus,” he rasped. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

The man knew how to send a thrilling shiver through her, whether she wanted it or not. He could do it just by flashing those intense blue eyes. His blond hair, long on top, shaved on the sides, formed a messy spike of bangs and framed the hard lines of his striking features. He was insanely attractive. And dangerous. She bit down on the towel.

“I’m not going to rape you, Joni.” The iron resolve in his voice sank her into the mattress, overpowering her like the ropes on her arms and legs. “Nod if you understand.”

In her five-year stint in Internal Affairs, she’d never miscalculated in an investigation. After her assessment of him in the coffee shop, she’d concluded he walked a precarious line of the law. She trusted his intentions not to rape her, but her instincts rioted against the chance he might lose control and force her.

She nodded but gave one of her restrained arms a pointed glare.

“You’re restrained because it excites me.” He fisted his hands on the mattress between her feet, his upper body braced on his arms, his eyes piercing places inside her he shouldn’t be able to reach. “And because it excites you too.”

The bed warmed beneath her, wrapping tendrils of heat around her, cinching her body in a fevered embrace. She’d wanted him when he’d kissed her in the shop, but her investigation and her ambivalence prohibited it. Bound and gagged, it was terrifying how much she still desired him.

“I don’t want you to be afraid. That’s not my thing. I want you aroused.”

Her inner muscles clenched. If he fucked her without the appearance of consent, she wouldn’t lose her job, wouldn’t break a professional code of conduct. She tugged on the rope. Her choices had been taken from her, hadn’t they? Maybe she was deluded by shock and arousal, but there was a startling amount of freedom in her restraints.

“I will not put my cock in you until you beg for it.” He prowled around the bed and sat on the edge beside her hip. “I’m breaking some laws tonight, but rape isn’t one of them. I’ve never…” He smiled crookedly and rubbed the

back of his blond head. “I’ve never done this before.”

She melted into the bed, lightened by that confirmation.

He leaned in, imprisoning her in the bluest reaches of his eyes. “If you aren’t begging for it by morning, I’m yours to punch, kick, haul off to jail, and utterly destroy.”

His expression was neither regretful nor cruel. Dark eyebrows made his hard eyes even more determined. A shiver ran down her spine.

“If I succeed…” He bent his head and skimmed his lips over her jaw, his sultry exhale rousing goose bumps down her neck. “If you beg me to fuck you…” His tongue swiped over her earlobe. He leaned back, snagged her eyes. “Then I will fuck you.”

The crudeness in his language should’ve renewed her struggle against the cuffs. Instead, it sent a wave of pulsations through her clit. What if she didn’t have the willpower to fight his seduction? Suddenly, the gag was a comforting restraint, a barrier to prevent her from begging.

He stood and unbuttoned his shirt, his watchful eyes holding hers hostage. Each button exposed an inch of tight skin, another crest of muscle. When the shirt dropped to the floor, he freed the button on his jeans and slid down the zipper.

The throb between her legs beat to the pound of her heart. She could ignore it. Yep, ignoring it. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

He shoved his pants and underwear to his feet, and his cock jutted up, hard, thick and glistening at the tip. Good God, she couldn’t look away. A blaze of desire heated her sex, lubricating her for penetration. Fucking hell, he could slide right in.

He circled the base of his girth with a finger and thumb, palm out, and stroked the length slowly. Another stroke. He regarded her, the seam of his mouth separating, his shoulders rolling forward. “Do you want this?”

She glared at him, her pussy convulsing.

A grin spread over his face, illuminating his eyes. Kneeling between her legs, he leaned in on his elbows, his knuckles just a nudge away from grazing her slit. Her hips rolled, and fuck him, he chuckled.

His head dipped, his eyes searing her needy flesh. Could he see the contractions in her inner muscles? Was her clitoris swollen and flushed? She panted around the towel.

“You have a tiny little clit, and your cunt is sopping.” He drew in a long, deep breath, and his eyes shuttered, opened. “Fuck, you smell like sex and sugar.”

It was too much. He was too close. She jerked against the shackles and gnawed on the gag.

He climbed up her body, still not touching her, and pinched the towel in her mouth. “You are not going to scream, because you don’t want to. Trust me, Joni.”

She trusted his intentions, not his control.